In the history of the worldwide United Methodist Church, there had been only three women elected to the episcopacy. One woman had been elected in 1980, the other two in 1984. All three elections came after years of strategizing by women, including myself, trying to get a woman to be even considered as a possible bishop.
At the 1988 quadrennial Jurisdictional Conference, where new bishops are elected to replace retirees, the Northeastern Jurisdiction in the United States was to elect one bishop. Never had a woman been elected in that jurisdiction. That year, many male candidates and one woman were in the running. Brochures and campaign buttons were being distributed, and candidates were interviewed as the hopefuls seeking election vied for the combined lay and clergy delegate votes.
I was not planning to attend that regional gathering. Just two months earlier at a worldwide denominational conference, I had been elected to the Judicial Council, the denomination’s “Supreme Court.” I was the first clergywoman ever to hold that position. However, a phone call motivated me to attend since I was the lone regional member on the Judicial Council. So, at the last minute, I packed some casual clothes in a bag and off I went.
The voting began. To win the election, a candidate needed more than 60 percent of the delegates’ votes. Each delegate could vote for one of the listed candidates, but there was a possibility of write-in votes. After the first two ballots, it was clear the clergywoman candidate we had managed to get on the ballot was receiving little support. On the third ballot report, I heard a familiar name: Susan Morrison, one vote. My name! Amused, I wondered which friend had written it. On the next ballot, I received two votes. On the next ballot, there were seventeen votes!
And then the drama began.
Question from the Chair: Now that Susan Morrison has received more than ten votes, will a biographical sheet be distributed?
Answer: Not at this time.
On this third day of the Jurisdictional Conference, I was an unexpected, unprepared candidate for the episcopacy. Frankly, I was stunned. As the morning session drew to a close, four women converged on me, accompanied me to the snack bar, and began to strategize what to do. First things first, they said. The vitae sheet, the requested biographical information, needed to be prepared.
Together we thought of what should be included. Education? Church service? One of the women wrote the information down in her calligraphic script on a plain sheet of paper. Another took the final product off to be copied and distributed.
Who were those women who led me through the “what to do next” when the numbness, the precursor of the emotional shock that would come, was beginning to set in? There was Lynne, who had been “the woman candidate” in our jurisdiction in 1984. There was Diedra, who was “the woman candidate” in the Northeastern Jurisdiction this very year. And there were Molly and Linda, two women who had been working on Diedra’s campaign. All were committed to helping a woman be elected; two of them had aspirations themselves and had anticipated what it would mean to be chosen. They had long considered the historic consecration process, had understood the enormous responsibility of administering the hundreds of churches, clergy, and conferences that is part of the position, and knew that this election was for life. Life! Each now sat with me, helping me respond.
By evening, the voting was over. I had won—a woman had been elected. The barrier of exclusion was broken. Not anticipating this in any way, I had not packed properly. The consecration service was immediately before me. My beach sandals would just have to do, but I really needed to borrow a robe and stole. Off I went to once again call on others for help. From those moments on, my life and my call to ministry were changed forever.
Out of the flashes of memory of those most unusual hours, the image of the five of us around the table in the college snack bar comes to me. A model of sisterhood … a symbol of female community … of dreams tempered with reality … unselfish goals … gifts shared … bonds of respect. Truly it is a vision of what I continue to hope the larger faith community can be.